


Fear the Winter

by tempest_in_the_storm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Badass Arya, Basically all the family feels, Drabbles, Gen, I honestly have no idea what the fuck im doing, Mainly Arya-centric, Spoilers, i guess, oh and im a dramatic son of a bitch, or something like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:08:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempest_in_the_storm/pseuds/tempest_in_the_storm
Summary: A collection inspired by the Arya drabble collection by SecondFromTheRight. Short drabbles of Arya's Stark's badass-ness, and other things.





	Fear the Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Million And One Ways Arya Could (Should) Have Been Mentioned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11846619) by [SecondFromTheRight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondFromTheRight/pseuds/SecondFromTheRight). 



> ??? I really don't know where I'm going with this? They're just drabbles tbh.

The halls of the Red Keep were covered in blood, fallen guards littering every corridor.

Qyburn trembled at the short figure that stood in the entranceway. At their feet lay a large heap of armor, too big for any ordinary man. He did not look at the discarded head that had been thrown at his feet. And he did not move.

"Death will come for you quickly; for those who betray the Crown. Even the gods will not be able to save you." He sputtered at the small assassin. They did not react, merely wiping off their thin blade on the cloak draped over the body that used to belong to Gregor Clegane. Then they looked up, and even from across the distance, Qyburn could see the bloodlust that boiled in the assassin's stormy grey eyes. 

"There is only one god." They corrected softly, their voice low and purring like a cat, or maybe the rumbling throat of a wolf. "But it is not my day to die. Not today." The assassin took a step forward into the light, and a faint wave of nausea overcame Qyburn as Lyanna Stark's ghost stood before him, baring her teeth like the fangs of her house's sigil.

"Winter is here." The Stark girl whispered to him, stepping ever so softly forward, towards her frozen prey. "And it has come for House Lannister, oh Hand of the Queen." He knew there would be no escape. She had torn apart the Mountain reborn before his very eyes, and he had never been a fighter.

She studied his face as she came to a stop in front of him. "I hope you don't mind me using your face, Qyburn." The girl said.


End file.
